


Post-Euro Cup Shenanigans

by Kestrad



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2012 Euro Cup, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrad/pseuds/Kestrad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And this is why large groups of nations should not be allowed into bars--especially right after the Euro Cup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-Euro Cup Shenanigans

"Hey, cheer up, Sve, at least you made it!”

Sweden’s face turned even more dejected, something Finland hadn’t thought possible. Nations sitting by his chosen corner subconsciously backed away as his face grew scarier as a result.

“He’s right, Sve! Cheer up!” Denmark called from the counter over several large empty beer glasses before taking a long swig from the rapidly emptying one in his hand. Sweden shot him an extra death-filled death glare, but the beer glasses scattered it so that Denmark did not notice. “At least one of us had an awesome performance!”

Norway appeared from nowhere and smacked the Dane on the head. “Shut up, you oaf, or Ned’s going to start throwing tulip bulbs at you again.” Which wasn’t entirely true, seeing as Norway had distracted him last time with a joint and now the Netherlands was far too high to aim properly or care. But Denmark didn’t need to know that.

Meanwhile, Poland swigged from a bottle of vodka and put the finishing touches on his newly-painted nails. “And this,” he said to no one in particular, pointing at his unpainted thumb, “is where I would totes paint the Euro Cup. IF I, LIKE, HAD ONE!”

Behind him, at a table with her brother, Ukraine burst into tears. “I’m—I—I’m sorry, Poland!” she sobbed. “I failed us!” Russia stopped downing vodka and glaring at Greece (who had fallen asleep at the counter on a pile of cats, muttering what sounded suspiciously like “Ger…jerk…Gerkmany…money…”) for long enough to glare at England instead, awkwardly trying to comfort his sister by patting her on the head.

“Shtupid Italy,” England slurred as he wrestled the first of three white and red jackets off himself. Countless bottles of beer littered the floor around him.

“Ve?” Italy exclaimed, looking up from stuffing himself with pastries when he heard his name. “Hey, England, why are you wearing so much stuff?”

“Tosshed on exshtra lucky fan gear assh game went on,” England muttered in response, finally freeing himself from the last jacket and working on the first of several scarves. “Bloody lot of good it did.”

“Ve! It was a fun game, wasn’t it, England? Here, I’ll help you!” Italy started peeling the mountain of hats off of England’s head, completely oblivious of the murderous look crossing England’s face.

At this moment, Spain waltzed into the bar. “Ah, there you are, my little tomato!” he called to Romano, who sat in a corner sullenly shoving pastries into his mouth.

“Get away from me, bastard,” Romano spat. Spain laughed and ruffled his hair.

“You’re so cute, Romano,” he purred, sitting down next to the Italian and grabbing the glass of wine that happened to be nearby. “Celebrate my victory with me!”

“Hey! I stole that wine first! Go steal someone else’s!” Portugal’s angry yell cut off the string of curses about to flow from Romano’s mouth.

“But this glass was right here,” Spain replied, confused.

As the two Iberian nations bickered, Romano glanced under the table. A rather wine-stained France lay there, cuddling a bottle. “Euro cup or no,” France hiccupped, “you still love me, don’t you, mademoiselle?” He kissed the bottle sloppily, causing wine to slosh all over his head.

Romano backed away from the table, abandoning his pastries, and called for some bleach to pour over his head.

Meanwhile, between the two of them, England and Italy had finally managed to strip him down to only his jersey and shorts, Italy chattering happily all the while. “Yes, that really was a fun game, wasn’t it, England? I think it was too short! It really should have gone on for longer. All the running around was so fun to watch! You had an awesome goalie, by the—VEEEE!”

Italy shrieked in alarm and backed away as the room suddenly seemed to darken around England, who advanced towards him menacingly.

Beside Italy, Germany had finally grown tired of listening to Spain and Portugal arguing over who should drink the mysterious glass of wine. “QUIET,” he roared. He opened his mouth to admonish both, just in time to get hit squarely in the jaw as Italy dove behind him to avoid England’s punch.

The two nations stared stupidly at each other for a moment. Then Germany lifted his arm to sock England. “Oh, bloody hell,” England slurred, and kicked Germany in the crotch before poking a thumb in the other nation’s eye for good measure. Soon all hell broke loose in the bar as other drunken nations decided that some mindless violence seemed like fun.

“Whoo! Fight!” Denmark called as kicks, punches, and throws raged all around him. He chugged what remained of his tenth mug of beer before aiming a punch at Sweden’s face. Sweden dodged, but somehow Denmark’s fist connected with an appendage Sweden and Finland were both particularly fond of. Sweden curled into a writhing mass on the ground, and Finland sent an extra extra death-filled glare at Denmark. “Oh sh—,” Denmark had a chance to say, before having a very angry Finn latched to his throat. As he struggled, he glanced at Norway, who shrugged.

“You deserve this one.”

*

The next day, Germany received a brief note from England. It read simply, “My apologies for not fighting like a gentleman last night.”

He took out his lighter and burned the note to ash, wincing as his crotch tinged at the movement. “Italy! Fetch me more ice!”

*

“Sve! Fin! I’m sor—” Denmark stopped, suddenly wishing he had never burst in through the door as Sweden and Finland both shot him death glares and hurried to cover themselves, but not quickly enough to keep Denmark from noticing that Sweden had a bruise on his thigh.

“Last night—you did that on purpose!”

Sweden grinned smugly at him, and Finland suddenly had a suspiciously innocent look plastered on his face. “’Course not,” Sweden said, not even bothering to disguise his expression. “Now get out.”

Denmark fled, vowing for the umpteenth time to never burst through a door again.

**Author's Note:**

> (AKA what happened in the Euro Cup):  
> Okay, so Sweden was the first team to get knocked out of contention in Group D because he lost both of his first matches, so he's sad. Denmark, on the other hand, pulled an upset over the Netherlands, who left without winning a single match. Poland and Ukraine both failed to qualify for elimination rounds, despite being host countries--which has previously only happened to three other nations. It came down to the final round robin game for Ukraine, but they ultimately fell to England. Russia failed to qualify for elimination rounds because of Greece, who got knocked out by Germany in a game that even Americans paid attention to because of European debt crisis subtext. Italy and England then proceeded to have the first non-scoring game of the tournament after 150 minutes of play, Italy ultimately winning on penalties. Spain handily eliminated France and then beat Portugal on penalties. Italy defeated Germany to meet Spain in the finals, where Spain proceeded to walk all over them to take home the Cup.
> 
> Oh, and according to Eat, Pray, Love, Italians don't drown their ~~soccer~~ football sorrows, but rather eat pastries to console themselves instead.


End file.
